


Chaos is Our Creed

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-27
Updated: 2008-12-07
Packaged: 2019-01-19 19:19:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12416385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Draco lusts for Ginny. Pansy lusts for Harry. Ginny wishes Harry would pay more attention. Harry is distracted by imminent evil. Confrontations occur, and in the end not everyone is going to live happily ever after ;; AU, rated R for language && sexual implications.





	1. I Hate Happy Endings

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Chaos is Our Creed.   
Rated R ;; language, implied sexual content.   
Romance/Angst.   


**Author's Note:** This is the first fic I've written in several years, and all I have to say is enjoy!!!

~•~

Chapter 1 | I Hate Happy Endings

 

“Merlin, I hate happy endings.” Pansy slammed the romance novel she had been reading and scoffed as she tossed it over her shoulder, annoyed. Millicent Bulstrode had tossed Pansy one of her vampire romance novels when she had complained of boredom earlier in the week. The plot was utter rubbish; but she had liked it for its full-detailed, steamy sex scenes.

“You’re just offended because you’ll never have one.” Draco remarked. He was sprawled unceremoniously on an armchair nearby. His head lolled on the armrest, one leg hanging over the other, a surfeit look on his face. His meticulously jelled hair was mussed up in the back, and a half empty fire whiskey bottle dangled loosely in his hand. His eyes were blank and glossy.

“No, happy endings are always so… banal.” She proceeded to shriek with disdain and mockery, “And they all lived happily ever after! You may kiss the bloody bride. It’s a travesty! Besides, anyone whose life is remotely anything like that should go jump in the blinking lake.”

Pansy Parkinson, known for her more notorious acts and intolerance for life made her the definition of a ‘good’ Slytherin. With her usual toploftical visage that seemed to be the norm, she glared with languor at the high ceiling of the Slytherin boy’s dungeon dorm.

“That’s life sweetheart… it’s why our families are Death Eaters, isn’t it?” He let out what sounded between a snort and a scoff. He was clearly liquored up.

“It must be terribly unfulfilling to be a Gryffindor. Half the fun is a little chaos.” Her lip curled just slightly into a satisfied smirk as she continued to contemplate the ceiling.

“Mmm, yes… kind of like the time you mixed up Snape’s specimens.” He tsked amusedly.

“Or the time you tried to impersonate a dementor and almost made Potter fall off his broom? Got caught red handed in front of the whole school,” she taunted and tsked back mockingly. “Shameful, mister Malfoy…”

“Quite like that summer you tried to sneak into your father’s study. By the time you flooed to my house, your hands were black and shriveled and you were in hysterics,” came his sharp reply.

Pansy cringed. That certainly hadn’t been one of her finest moments. Little Pansy had been curious about the on goings of Death Eaters; though even then, her mother had never named this unspoken society that her family constantly whispered about behind closed doors. It was only until she got to Hogwarts did she learn more about the evils she was affiliated with; but a thorough bred Slytherin, the Death Eater concept only thrilled her.

“And you stole your father’s wand and only ended up in succeeding to turn me different colors, you prat!” she shot back, smirking. Her words implied she had called a truce. “And that’s why you’re now a Death Eater, is it? Chaos is our creed,” she jeered, waving an arm.

He was up and on her so swift she barely had time to blink when she was nose to nose with him and leering. She was surprised at his speed when she could still smell the whiskey on his breath. “Must be why I’m still fucking you isn’t it, Parkinson?”

Ignoring the alcohol on his breath, she rolled her eyes, “What a pretense…” she retorted.

“Mmm, you had best hope that’s why I am… or otherwise I’d probably have had Weasley.”

Pansy slapped his hand away gripping at her backside. “Don’t be rude… that’s no way to get—”

“Oh, do shut up, Pansy…”

With ferocity in her eyes, knowing what was coming next, she whispered, “Make me.” With a deft flick of her hand, she had seized the wand from Draco’s back pocket and the door beyond them slammed shut and locked itself.

~•~

Ginny Weasley sat herself down in the Great Hall next to Harry Potter and planted a great smooch right on his cheek.

“Well, good morning, sunshine!” Ron greeted her sardonically with a disgusted look on her face. “I really don’t care to see that this early in the morning, Ginny,” he muttered as he buttered his toast and shoved it into his mouth. Then he mumbled something that might have been “… or ever.” But his mouth was so crammed he only succeeded in sending bits of toast all over the table.

“Same goes for you and your lovely table manners, Ronald.” She buttered her own piece of toast, but ate hers in a more refined fashion. She highly doubted that even as a girl, Ron would be able to have table manners even close to that of a goblin’s.

Hermione cut in before Ron had time to retort, and shower them in a flurry of half-chewed pieces of toast. “What were you guys planning to do today?” It was Sunday, and the ceiling of the Great Hall was showing it was a beautiful day.

Harry was, surprisingly, first to respond. “I’m just following her.” He smiled and flicked his head in Ginny’s direction.

Ginny and Harry’s relationship had flourished over several long and painful months of stubborn argument. With lots of intervention from Hermione (but with no help from Ron, of course) they put aside the war. After all, Dumbledore had said that if anything could defeat Lord Voldemort, it was love. But sometimes, Ginny wondered if this was only a façade. Harry just wasn’t the same. He was vacant and distant.

Ginny gave Harry and endearing look and Ron let on a subtle yet noticeable fake gag. Ginny kicked him under the table. “I was thinking about going down to the lake, maybe read or something? You guys want to join us?”

They all agreed to meet under the beech tree by the lake within the next hour, and Ginny hurried back to Gryffindor tower to pick up her things. Throwing her belongings into her bag, Ginny sprinted back out again. She stopped by the kitchen to pick up a few cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, and other sugary confections to bring out to the lake. Passing through the entrance hall, she made her way out onto the grounds.

In a shadowy alcove of the castle, a gang of Slytherins watched the Gryffindor pass without much bedlam.

“Bloody Blinding Blood traitor.”

“Say that five times fast.” The boy proceeded to say it to the giggles of the girl.

“With all that outlandish carrot hair, she looks like a blinking overgrown weed on the grass.”

“Not one I’d mind plucking…” Draco surveyed her appraisingly from the distance. “I wonder what she’d look like in green,” Draco mused. Behind his satisfied smirk, one needn’t even guess at what he was thinking.

“Probably like a Christmas ornament. Keep your pants on, Draco,” Pansy censured.

“Why Pansy, I thought your job was taking them off…” One of the girls snickered. Pansy only leered at her, but her lip curled slightly. It gave her a certain satisfaction that people knew her _connection_ to Draco, the youngest and only Death Eater at Hogwarts.

Blaise chuckled in his deep voice that seemed to make the air hum. “I’d have to agree with Malfoy. If only she were a Slytherin… I have bet she’d ‘ve caught a few zippers.” The boys laughed approvingly at this.

Pansy watched the youngest Weasley from afar, her hair swaying as she sauntered across the grass, hurrying to wherever she was going. Perhaps if she had danced, Ginny might have appeared to be like a flower, swaying in the cool breeze.

A sudden loathing swelled in her. It seemed unjust that men were given the unspoken right to talk of other girls, but as soon as a woman commented on a guy, they were in marked territory. For herself, she wouldn’t have minded deflowering the said flowers lover, the famous Harry Potter. But that was taboo, beyond these unspoken rules. He was The Enemy. Even a fleeting remark like that about the Boy-Who-Lived could be taken the wrong way. Blood traitor or not, a fancy against Harry Potter would be a Slytherin girl’s ultimate offence.

~•~

“Hello!” Ginny plopped down beside Harry in the grass, with Ron and Hermione not too far away. She dug into her bag for the things she had snagged from the kitchen and laid it out on a napkin for them to share.

Ginny turned expectantly to Harry, but he was far away. He always seemed in a state of distraction.

“Hello, Harry?” She scooted closer to him. “Earth to Harry?” She nudged him with her shoulder and he seemed to come to.

“Ginny!” He seemed top be seeing her for the first time. He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. He shook off his reverie and turned back to the group.

Inwardly, Ginny’s heart gave a jerk. She could understand his distance and consternation, but it was draining. Just little things, like surprising her in the library with a secret éclair in his bag just for her made her brim with happiness. Now he was finding it hard enough to pull away from his own thoughts on a daily basis, even when she entered the room.

“So, Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw is next week!” she said excitedly, hoping that Quidditch talk could draw Harry back to conversation. “Who do you reckon is gonna’ win?”

But it was Ron who responded first. “Well, Ravelclaw, of course! Hufflepuff’s always been kind of the underdog, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Harry answered. “But they do turn out a few decent players once in a while… Cedric Diggory wasn’t bad.”

“Yeah… well.” Ron struggled to respond, but gave up. And that was it; Harry’s quick sobering affect had led to a very quiet afternoon down by the lake.

Not concentrating on her book as they sat, Ginny’s own mind wandered. What could she do? Harry’s ability to socialize had been spinning down the drain since the end of last year. If Quidditch talk couldn’t keep him, what could?

When they returned to the common room the sun was setting, and Ginny pulled Hermione off to the side. With a pleading look on her face, she question her what she could possibly do. With a raw look on her face, Hermione answered her.

“Well, there’s only one thing for it.”

“What? Corner him?” she asked, desperate for any helpful information.

“Well… more like broom closet him.” Hermione’s face was half contorted in amusement and half in consternation at the thought of Harry in a broom closet with ravenous little Ginny.

“Hermione! You don’t—!”

Hermione shushed her. “I didn’t mean…” She rolled her eyes in exaggeration. “I mean…” She lifted her eyebrows, hoping Ginny would get the hint.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake Hermione just spit it out.”

“Just don’t do anything you haven’t done before… or at least, what I think you haven’t done before.” Hermione eyed her with suspicion.

“Come off it Hermione, this is Harry we’re talking about.” Then Ginny gave her a smirk. “For a boy who was deprived of human kindness for 12 years, he can certainly—”

Hermione cut off her with a sharp swat and a scandalized look on her face.

~•~

Once again in the dungeons, the Slytherins were at ease in the dormitories. Draco had just announced that he was going to be visiting his father the following weekend. He stood in front of the mirror, flicking invisible specks of dust from his robes.

“Well I sure as hope you can keep your comments chaste, because you certainly don’t show it around here,” Pansy remarked from his bed, flipping nonsensically through a textbook, not even reading it, her eyes instead focused on the boy in front of her.

Draco eyed her through the mirror. “Do go on,” he drawled, a nasty look spreading about his face.

She rose from the bed and made her way over to him. “However you may joke around here about your loveless affairs and your affinities for certain Gryffindors, ‘grown-up’ Death Eater’s might not take it so lightly.” She had meant his father; it was a warning.

Rolling his eyes, he pulled at his tie and slid it off. “Don’t think I’m so stupid…”

“Then enlighten me,” she said through gritted teeth, her dark eyes trained on his light ones through the mirror.

Draco slapped his tie onto the chair next to the mirror and turned around to face her eye to eye. “If you honestly think I am this trivial around my father, you are sorely mistaken!” His voice had a quiet and deadly warning in it. The statement carried a many parallel meanings, each of which she understood. They understood each other with these matters as if it were a secret language all their own.

Pansy paid no heed. “I would certainly hope not,” she spat. “The way you go on would make any one with less tolerance question your loyalties. You might as well transfer into Gryffindor and take her in your bed there!”

His eyes were ablaze, his hand fisted with the seeming intent to strike. “I know my boundaries, but you have just crossed yours.

“Have I?” she shrieked. She leaned toward him, poking him in the chest, for that was where she reached in comparison to his frame. “You seemed much more loyal when you were younger. The reason you actually taunted the Weasel was because you genuinely loathed her. And now I’m beginning to question whether you truly are your father’s son.”

He lowered his head so his eyes were level to hers. “Then let me put your mind at ease,” he seethed, his words clipped, “it’s not her bed I go to every night is it?”

“Nor mine…” Pansy muttered, turning back to the bed to pick up the textbook and then proceeding to leave.

He caught her arm on the way out of the room. “Well then, at least I don’t leave the dungeons at night, do I?” His implication was clear.

Pansy wrenched her arm away. “Then I’ve made a mistake. Perhaps you are your father’s son.” And she turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her.

With a yell of fury, Draco swiped up the glass ornament sitting on the table and threw it at the door. On the other side, Pansy let out a satisfied puff at the sound of shattering glass before heading down the landing and down the stairs to her own dormitory.

Sometimes a little chaos could go a long way.


	2. Lovers Quarrel, Lovers Embrace

Chaos is Our Creed.  
Rated R ;; language, implied sexual content.  
Romance/Angst.

**Author’s Note:** I know, long time no update… I’ve learned that I need to stay several steps ahead of my posts or bad things happen. Enjoy! :]

~•~

Chapter 2| Lovers Quarrel, Lovers Embrace

 

Ginny had been wondering how to get Harry into the broom cupboard all that night and into the following morning. She sat down to breakfast with only a brief, “Hello,” to Harry, Ron, and Hermione before putting food on her plate, wrapped up in her own thoughts.

Classes begun and Ginny departed from them, making her way to her own classroom. Potions class bright and early on a Monday morning was not an ideal way to start her week, but it meant not having to see the dungeons again until Thursday. The new potions master this year was a shriveled old man, small but lanky, and almost blind. However, he was much nicer than Snape had been which made Potions semi-bearable for once in her life.

Today, nevertheless, was one of the more unbearable days, as it was all lecture. Ginny sat there in a stupor, not really paying attention to the old man as he explained the properties of dragon blood and its uses. The constant heat and boiling and bubbling of cauldrons along with the classroom setting were putting her into a lull.

She settled for trying to think up ways to corner Harry. Quidditch practice seemed promising; the broom closet in the locker room after practice would provide a nice quiet place without having to think too hard about being disturbed. But she wondered if she should be openly blatant about her intentions. Harry wasn’t always too good with subtle, especially now that he always seem distracted. She feared that jumping upon him too, with all the evils he had to worry about that might not be a good way either. Possibly a middle road would be most effective. If she could just figure out how…

The finally bell rang to signal the end of the period, and Ginny was grateful, though her thoughts were interrupted. With the rest of her year, she packed her bags and filed out of the classroom. The 6th year Slytherins were jeering at them as the 5th year Gryffindors made their way back up the hall to the upper floor to their next class, Charms.

Ginny, already distracted with thoughts of Harry and rummaging in her bag for an extra hair tie, was the perfect victim for none other than Draco Malfoy. He grabbed her arm and spun her around. Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle moved to block off her exit and the pack of Gryffindors she had been following behind slowly trickled out of sight.

“Loose something, sweetheart?”

For a second, he registered shock in her wide eyes, before they recognized who had stopped her. Then they narrowed with such abhorrence as could only be when Slytherins and Gryffindors crossed paths, especially Weasley’s and Malfoy’s. She jerked her arm back and stood her ground firmly.

“No, I hadn’t.” She didn’t know what they were playing at, but she was quickly trying to calculate as to who was to be the first victim of her attack, if it came to that, as she automatically moved to grip her wand in her robes.

“I bet…” he answered, surlily. He leaned in so she could feel the breath on her ear and smell a hint of mint, “But perhaps I would be willing to help in that…” he whispered in an undertone. He laid his hand lightly on her arm.

“Perhaps I can help you loose a few things too,” Ginny drew her wand out of her pocket and shoved under Malfoy’s throat. 

“Ooh, feisty…” he taunted, he seemed to tense with excitement. She could feel it between the short span of air between them and affected her in such a way that her own body tensed, if that was possible, further than it had already been given the situation.

“You want feisty? I can do feisty.” And with a quick and sweeping wave across his chest she hit Draco with a hex, and at close range, it did its damage. His face and arms began to purple as bruises formed on his porcelain pale skin. He jerked away and immediately his wingmen moved to attack her.

Blaise threw a curse, but she blocked it. The DA meetings seemed to whirl in her head, and more than remembering all those secret lessons, she simply acted. It didn’t take her long to send two more of them sprawling to give a clear path, and she sprinted through the broken blockade. She had fought their parents, so fighting them was practically child’s play. As she looked back, she saw Draco had disappeared.

Before ditching his sidekicks and leaving them to their problems—Goyle hanging upside down, Crabbe had been hit with a full body bind, and Blaise was out cold—she conjured a caution sign on the hallway adjacent, wondering how long it would take until either the curses wore off or someone to find them.

~•~

Later that night, Pansy leaned against the doorframe of the 6th year boy’s dormitories. “I take it the hunt didn’t go too well.” Draco and Blaise were lounging around the room, each with a moody and brooding sort of expression on their face. Draco was now bruise free.

“Will you just shut it, right?” Draco said annoyed, lazing around on his bed.

“Well, I’m certainly not here to help you grieve over your wasted testosterone and man pride.” Pansy rounded on Draco; she threw a scolding gaze in Blaise’s direction on the way. “How long are you going to play your little game? And how long will you be able to keep it from Lucius. Or from anyone else for that matter?” It was clear that Pansy was referring too, higher, darker powers.

“You carry that insignia as if it were nothing.” With a steely sincerity in her voice, she asked, “What happened to allegiance and servitude?”

“What happened to chaos and fun?” Draco snapped and stood up, his gaze smoldering. He wasn’t going to take this, especially from Pansy. Who more than anyone in this school was closest in rank to the Dark Lord himself? “You’re to ruin it just because you’re not in the center of it all?”

“You’re a bloodtraitor… You are for even willingly go near that wretch!”

For a moment, it looked as if Draco was about ready to hit her. His fists were clenched at his sides again, but at least it wasn’t on his wand; with that, he could do far greater damage. And then his muscles relaxed and he turned away from her and began rummaging in his trunk as if nothing had happened or bothered him.

“Well? Aren’t you going to answer me?” Pansy glared at his back.

He turned only briefly in acknowledgement. “Oh… go spread your legs for someone who cares.”

Pansy gripped her own wand but knew she would never use it against him. She was so enraged, she didn’t even have a comeback. It was only when she was half way to the door did she turn around and announce, managing to still hold her head up high, “Perhaps I will… but I am ashamed to have ever done so for you. Malfoy was a name I used to respect. I’ll remain faithful to what really matters and I’ll be a loyal Death Eater where you fail, Draco. You’re just pitiful!”

Pansy stormed into the common room and flung herself into an armchair to brood. She had known Draco since infancy, through and through, or at least, that’s what she liked to believe. But Draco could always surprise her; he seemed to contradict himself and follow through with foolish acts just so as not to wound his pride. She put up with it through all these years… she just never thought he’d ever sink this low. 

However, when it came to herself she was negligent to observe that she herself was lusting after a particular Gryffindor and that this would be counted as more of a scandal than his. But the name Parkinson cowered in comparison to the ranks of the Malfoy’s. Her flaw would undoubtedly go unnoticed and by the time it mattered, it would have been behind her. Her pride only allowed her to observe his flaw, and she was furious that he was endangering his family’s honorable reputation, one she had been counting on acquiring for her own family’s status when the pressure came down on him to marry pureblood.

When it came to Slytherin allegiance, it was not to be fooled around with lightly. The fact that Draco himself, the only Death Eater residing in this school had the gall to fool around with a known bloodtraitor, was blasphemous.

That it was Ginny Weasley was more of a personal offence than anything. Although he could never known that Pansy was strangely ‘attracted’ (which was too strong a word in her opinion) to Harry Potter, nobody would ever know. She wouldn’t be able to face becoming a Death Eater if this affinity got more out of hand than it already was. She fret upon this thought for a while. Why Ginny of all people?

It must have something to do with the Dark Lord. Surely, Draco was being taught legilimency or something. Then she began to worry. Had Draco used it on her? Had she not realized it? All thoughts about Ginny Weasley disappeared now. If he knew of her thoughts about Harry… was he playing a sick game to teach her a lesson? 

Pansy didn’t know what to think at this point. She didn’t think she could face him just then when she felt so unguarded. She fled from the common room and fell listlessly, safe in her own dormitories, onto her bed.

“Aww, rough evening, was it?” Millicent was sitting on the chair by the window, scratching away at some parchment, her legs curled beneath her. She was a heavyset sort of girl, and not counting the acne and slight scarring on her face, she might have been attractive. But Millicent was unkempt and duck footed, and she had no grace.

“Could have been worse,” Pansy answered, vaguely, smoothing her skirt.

“No worries, I’m sure Draco will come around eventually.” She went back to scribbling, distracted.

“I doubt it,” she mumbled, but Millicent didn’t hear. Pansy rolled and turned away from her to stare at the cobbled stonewall.

Pansy didn’t know a thing about Occlumency. But she figured, for all the crap she was shoving down his throat, if he knew, he would surely use it against her. Draco didn’t keep secrets such as that under wraps, even if it was about Pansy. The thought didn’t ease her mind in the slightest. Even if that weren’t the case, there was still the issue of him trying to get into Weasley’s skirt.

~•~

In her own common room, Ginny Weasley was staring blankly at the textbook sitting in her lap. It was only this morning, but why had it happened at all in the first place? She hated Malfoy, sure… but she had that was mutual. Now he had a different sort of… hate, she guessed.

But what to do about it? How do you fight against something like that? How many times could she run away like that, assuming it happened again, and hope that she wouldn’t get cornered. Perhaps it was a mistaken identity thing? Or maybe it was just a fluke? A one-time thing?

Growling, she slammed the book shut and paced in front of the fireplace.

“What’s up, Ginny?” Harry, who had been conversing with Ron and Hermione, now stood beside her, a worried look on his face.

“Oh, just… thinking too hard I supposed.” Her face softened and she embraced him, thankful for the distraction. “But thank you for saving me from my own head,” she said, running her hands through his wild hair with affection.

“S’what I do best.” He gave her a half smile and Ginny felt her heart flutter at his boyish charm. “You seemed troubled.” For the moment, she had Harry. Occasionally, he would float back down from his own thoughts, and when he did, Ginny always felt the same overwhelming sense of love for him. Jumping on her luck, her thoughts drifted away from Malfoy.

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, nuzzling his chest. “Well, I’m not anymore.”

“Apparently.” If she had looked up, Ginny knew she would see a very smug expression on his face. “Come on…” He pulled her up the boy’s staircase and led her to the 6th year dormitories.

Ginny’s planning to corner him in the broom cupboard may have gone to waste, but she wasn’t complaining. The fact that he had initiated this on his own was making her heart swell.

As soon as they found themselves alone and Harry had closed the door behind him, Ginny sprinted to his bed and jumped on it, landing face first time the pillows perfumed with Harry’s scent. She turned to find him at the bedside. “Oh my, there is a girl in my bed…” 

She jumped to her feet and began jumping on the bed, giggling to herself. She had Harry back.

“Gin, you’re ruining the moment.”

Giggling still, she sat down on the bed. “Okay then, start over.” She forced herself to calm down.

He gave her an incredulous look and rolled his eyes and sighed. Then with a whip he closed the bed curtains shut, leaving her in temporary darkness. Ginny waited. With a sudden flourish, Harry was back in the curtains with a pained look on his face.

“What’s that supposed to be, you’re constipated face?” She couldn’t help it; she broke out laughing again.

“No, this is my Malfoy face, here to seduce you.” Ginny howled with laughter. Even if she had been attacked by Malfoy earlier that day, the whole situation now seemed strangely hysterical when it was Harry impersonating him. Ginny inwardly scoffed; she could take Malfoy any day, and she had proven it earlier. “Nobody laughs at Malfoy and gets away with it!” He mocked in Malfoy’s pompous voice and jumped on her. Between fits of giggles she screamed, “Oh, Malfoy!”

Just then the curtains were ripped back and Ron stood there with a look of horror on his face. He caught Harry on top of his giggling sister.

“Oi! Get off her!” He jerked Harry off of her. “What are you trying to do? Lay off! Are you trying to rape her?” He swatted the backside of Harry’s head hard.

“No,” he answered. Then he glanced at her with that pained look on his face again. “But that was next on Malfoy’s to do list.” Ginny again shrieked with laughter, and then fell into a renewed fit at the look on Ron’s face.

Before Ron had time to react, Harry pulled Ron away and whispered hurriedly into his ear, gesticulating. Ginny had the impression he was painting him the picture of Malfoy trying to seduce little Ginny, but then Ron threw a look at her and stomped off, slamming the door.

“Okay, he won’t bug us again… at least, not for a while.” He sat down on the bed next to her.

“What did you tell him?” she asked with a suspicious look on her face.

“Never mind.” And before she could think to ask, he had leaned in and kissed her in such a way that she didn’t argue. She pulled him in closer and groping blindly for the curtains, Harry shut them again.

~•~

The reason as to Draco’s irritability the following day was more due to having lost his prey. It was like when you were right at the goal, the quaffle in your hand, seeing the fear on the keeper’s face, the tension in your arm ready to let loose and then getting thrown off your broom with a bludger. No! It was much more dissatisfying than that. No, it was more like the lovely pressure building just perfect, right before a bloody, fantastic climax and then having what’s-her-name pull away right before the deed was finished. Yes, it was _that_ disappointing.

Having the Weasley girl get the best of them brought such a shame upon him that he couldn’t look at himself when he had escaped back to his room following the scuffle. She had taken on four 6th year boys without so much as batting an eye. He of course had not defended himself with the myriad of special and forbidden curses that he knew, but chose to leave her unscathed, especially when he was still eager to get his hands on her. 

But it hadn’t all been for nothing. The sequence of events had been rather chagrin, but it had lead to a brilliant idea right in the middle of Pansy’s tirade about Dark Marks and loyalty and shit. Just as she was saying something “Bloodtraitors!” it had hit him. When she had finally left, Draco tossed Blaise a bag of coins the he had pulled out of his trunk and gave him his smuggest Draco Malfoy smirk.

“You still fucking that Ravenclaw bird?” 


End file.
